


Spring Fever

by herequeerandreadytofight



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Awkward baby gay, Canon Queer Character, Good good family bonding, This show needs more women tbh, Tommy's kinda a dick
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-03-29 06:15:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 12,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13921113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herequeerandreadytofight/pseuds/herequeerandreadytofight
Summary: Despite her dreams, despite the psychics, despite the parish records, part of Polly refuses to believe her daughter is dead. She might be right.





	1. Act 1

All of Birdie Boswell’s female descendants had the gift.  
It usually manifested after the menarche, but Ada swore on a stack of bibles she’d had a dream when she was eight that saw Arthur with a broken arm three days before he fell off a cart horse. All this meant, after a lifetime of dreams and cards and tea leaves that were always right, even if it wasn’t in ways you’d expect, that after the first time she’d dreamt of Anna, she woke up weeping. 

She checked of course, reshuffling her deck of tarot cards in hopes that the spread would reveal something different, some new interpretation, but that pale fucking horse kept re-emerging. Death was undeniable. However, she hadn’t managed her motley crew of violent young boys and men who thought their cocks meant that they had the god given right to trod all over her, and Ada, Jesus Christ, Ada, without learning the devil was in the details. She checked again and again with psychics across Birmingham. She was left, ultimately, ten pounds lighter and with a persistent ache in her throat that left her facing the truth before Tommy ever pulled parish records. Death was undeniable. 

It went without saying, then, that what happened a few days later was not expected. The gift made it hard to be surprised, but when she received a postcard from Cardiff with a picture of waves crashing against the rocks and a hastily scrawled note on the back she felt blindsided in a way she hadn’t for years.  
Mum,  
It’s taken 15 years but I’m on my way back to you.  
Love,  
Anna 

She sat, stock still in the office with her hands frozen, clutching the postcard so hard it crumpled before slamming it down on her desk. The majority of the men looked up, then just as quickly, looked away. They had learned not to fuck with her after she’d pulled a knife on Scudboat. Tommy was down at the docks with Charlie, thankfully. Arthur popped out of the office. “Alright, Pol?” 

She pulled her bag onto her shoulder. 

“I’m taking a walk.” 

The ultimate problem, she decided, with being the de facto mother to a gang is that not only could she not cry in her office, but she couldn’t cry on the street either. Tommy’s fucking sentries were everywhere and seeing the treasurer weeping on the street would have undermined whatever credibility she’d accumulated. So she paced the streets, clutching her Black Madonna in one hand as she smoked with the other until she’d decided what to do. 

“Family meeting. Now.”


	2. The Magician

“It’s a prank.” 

“Oh come on now, Tom, who’d go all the way to Cardiff to play a joke like this?” Arthur took another swig from his pint.

“Dunno, but this is fucked up.” John scratched at his neck. “Fuckin cruel.”

“Polly, Polly, I checked the records. You saw them for yourself. Focus on Michael, alright? Focus on waiting a few more weeks.”

Polly nodded. They were right, it couldn’t be her. She was in a grave in Australia, oceans away. The dreams were right. She limped through the rest of the day, listlessly counting up columns and totalling expenses. The boys, as unperceptive as they were, still managed to pick up that there was something wrong, and would come by with tea or a cigarette, looking as bashful as they did at eight when they’d present her with scavenged wildflowers. Finn got fed, bathed and put to bed somehow, and there was a letter to Ada put in the post, and dishes scrubbed before her head could hit the pillow.

In her dream, waves crashed on the deck of a ship, long brown curls fell to the floor as silently as snow, and ghostly hands bled against porcelain. Heart beating in her throat, she pulled her rosary under the covers and whispered Hail Marys until she drifted off again with the beads still in her hand. 

Waking up with a grumble, she sat at her mirror and applied her kohl in a practiced motion, went down the hall to shout to the sleeping Finn, got dressed, drew a card, and shouted at Finn again before she could sit down with a cup of tea to study her card. The hanged man. Topsy-turvy today. 

“It’d be nice if it meant Finn waking up on his own” she muttered. Just as she was about to shout again, there was a knock at the door.

She squinted down the peephole before opening the door to reveal a postman.   
“You Elizabeth Grey?” 

“Yes.” 

“Delivery.” Motioning to some street children behind him, he paraded past her with a series of brass trunks. Finn stumbled past the pile in the kitchen still in his pyjamas as the door shut. 

“What’s this then?” 

Polly frowned at the label on one of the trunks, battered and covered with port of entry stamps. “I’m not sure”   
“C’n I have cake for breakfast?” 

“Absolutely not, I made oatmeal. Get dressed.” After a sharp look, he complied. Her attention rediverted to the label, which proclaimed in a messy scrawl the owner to be an “A. Grey.” Polly rapped the tarot card she’d slipped into her pocket significantly against the trunk as if to prove a point to herself before going to lace up her boots. It was a major arcana day after all.


	3. The High Priestess

The boys had been rotating through spending the night, on Tommy’s orders, naturally. Not that she minded. It was almost like they were all living under the same roof again, which for all it’s chaos she did miss. Finn was a welcome respite, quiet in a way his brothers never were. It was Arthur tonight, which probably meant he and Finn would end up play boxing in the yard until far too late and she’d shout herself hoarse trying to get them to come in. Finn had been sent out for groceries and it was almost domestic, with a fire crackling and some trousers torn in a scuffle in front of her. At least it was until Arthur barged in, knocking over the icon of the Virgin. 

“Sorry, Poll.” 

She put down the needle she’d been trying to thread for the last five minutes. “Where’s Finn?” 

Arthur bounced on the balls of his feet for a moment. “Well, here’s the thing, he’s gotten into a bit of a scrap.” 

“Oh, Jesus. Again?” She stood, taking the pin out of her mouth and jabbing it into the pincushion. “Where?” 

“He’s out by the Garrison. It was a group of ‘em, apparently. Harry’s trying to give him a pint.” 

“No fucking booze till he’s at least sixteen, if I’ve told him once I’ve told him a hundred times. He probably didn’t get the fucking groceries, either.” 

At the Garrison, Finn was seated by the bar, nose and mouth caked in blood but grinning ear to ear. Men were ridiculous. The pub was packed, as it always was after the last factory whistle, and men buying a pint would go over and clap him on the back. They parted for Polly though. They always made way for her.   
“Finnegan Thomas. Time to come home.” He stood, reluctantly. A man in the back turned to his friend and muttered “I’d rather get KO’d than go home with that one.” Leaving, she made sure to step on both his feet. 

They walked along in silence for a moment or two before she sighed. “What happened?”

“They said something.”

“You can’t keep fighting them by yourself. If I have to mend another pair of trousers I’m giving you my sewing kit and you can figure it out by yourself.” 

He squirmed at that one. “Go home and start a bath, alright? Is it still bleeding?” 

After he shook his head she swatted him along. “I’ll be there in a moment.” 

After haggling over the price of carrots for nearly twenty minutes- the grocer was a prick- she walked home fuming all the way. She still needed to actually made dinner, check that Finn hadn’t lost any teeth, mend two pairs of trousers and make sure Arthur didn’t break any other religious icons. Fuck. She wished she lived approximately two hundred miles from any teenager sometimes. Maybe get a cat. She pushed the door open. She’d told him to lock it after him one thousand times, and yet every single time he beat her home the door was swung wide open, practically inviting anyone on the street in.   
“Lord give me strength.” She muttered as she walked towards the sound of voices in the kitchen. A high laugh rung out and she paused. A girl? Honestly, Finn had been relatively quiet about the entire female sex and she had partially hoped he would continue that silence until he was out of her house. John had been a nightmare, and it was because of him she still checked under beds when saying goodnight to ensure there were no half naked sixteen year old girls peeping back at her. She cleared her throat several times and made sure to click her heels as much as she could against the carpet. 

“Aunt Polly?” Before she could respond, the front door banged open again. 

“No need to worry about them any more, Finn, eh?” Looking wild but joyous, Arthur tracked mud onto her carpets and pecked her on the cheek. 

“Alright, Pol?” She held his chin and angled his face from side to side. 

“You need ice on that one. I hope to God you didn’t fight a bunch of schoolboys.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous, we fought their brothers.” 

She tsked. “I swear, all men know how to do is fight.” At least he’d stopped this time. She thought. Finn came out of the kitchen looking marginally less bloody. 

“Aunt Pol, you have to come here quick, it’s-” He was cut off by Arthur, who’d grabbed him in a headlock and ruffled his hair. 

“Good job though, Finn boy. Three on one’s not nothing even if you did get the shit kicked out of you.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Did either of you lose any teeth or need any stitches?”

Finn shook his head as best he could from his position, and so did Arthur, even though his mouth was bleeding. Probably just a split lip from a ring. 

“But Pol in the kitchen there’s-” But Arthur had beaten him to it. 

“ ‘Oo the fuck are you?”


	4. The High Priestess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's happening !!

The woman on the chair blinked. “I’m waiting for Mrs. Elizabeth Gray. And I don’t think you’re her.” 

“I’m her fucking nephew.” 

She cocked her head. “Are you Arthur, Tommy, or John?” 

“Who the fuck wants to know?” 

This was clearly going nowhere so she stepped in. “I’m Elizabeth Gray.” 

The woman looked up at her. 

“Holy Jesus” Pol whispered. 

She smiled up at her, though her eyes were welling up. “I’m Anna Gray. I think you’re my mum.” 

Polly came to on her settee with the sharp odor of smelling salts stinging her nose. Arthur was sitting across, looking worried and uncomfortable. Her daughter was holding them under her nose, and started when Polly grabbed her wrist. 

“I- Anna?” 

The door banged open again and she sat up. 

“If you lot don’t start fucking knocking, I’m changing the fucking locks.” 

Tommy stormed in with Finn close behind, gun drawn. 

“Who are you?” 

Anna glanced over at Polly. 

“Don’t look at her, look at me. Who the fuck are you?” 

“Thomas, it’s Anna.” 

“Pol, you saw the records. Answer the fucking question” 

Anna stood. “My name is Anna Gray. I was taken away from my mother and brother when I was three. I was sent to a family here but I kept running away. They sent me to Australia and when I turned sixteen I ran away again and now I’m here.”

Tommy kept the pistol pointed right at her head. “Who sent you, ey? Sabini?” 

“Who’s Sabini?” 

“Thomas!” Polly stood, placing herself in front of the gun. “Fucking look at her.” 

He did, pale eyes flicking up and down her form. If she’d suspected any of her nephews had the gift, her guess would be Tommy, though he’d stayed silent on the matter all together. He took in the battered leather boots, the slightly too big dress, the wool men’s cardigan and no coat, and cropped hair only a few strokes of the razor away from a Peaky cut. Her face was a near replica of Polly’s, down to the dark eyes. Tommy put the gun down. 

“How’d you come back?” 

She shrugged. “Boat, mostly.” 

Polly clapped her hands together. “Dinner. We can talk over food.”


	5. The Empress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two updates in one day?? must mean i'm really procrastinating. also i don't know what 'australia' is so i might not have gotten it right lmk if you know any better.   
> Finally: https://www.theguardian.com/film/2006/jun/11/features.review1 Eat your greens!

A quick meal of leftover chicken and potatoes was thrown together. Tommy chewed slowly and mistrustfully, staring at Anna the whole time who ate like she was starving. Looking at her slight frame, she probably was. Arthur kept the conversation flowing as best he could, which was mostly just a series of filthy stories and descriptions of fights he’d been in. Finn kept his head down and focused on his food. She couldn’t stop sneaking glances at her, her only daughter. Here at the kitchen table where she’d once thrown an entire plate of peas at the wall. 

“What’s Australia like?” blurted Finn, interrupting Arthur’s second recitation of ‘There Once Was a Man From Nantucket’. 

Anna’s nose scrunched up as she chewed. “Hot. Sunny. Lots of snakes though, and we lived in the outback, not in a city.” 

Finn looked awed. “Did you ever see a kangaroo?” 

“Lots of them. They’re kind of pests.” 

 

Tommy cleared his throat. “Is your family looking for you?” 

She glared at him in such a way that no one could deny the family connection between her and Polly. “My family is in this room.” 

Tommy brushed that off. “Your adoptive family.” 

Anna stared down at her plate. “I doubt it.” 

“You doubt it or you know it? Polly’s the one who would get in trouble if they found you here.” 

She looked up and caught his eye. “I know it.” 

Polly melted and stood and wrapped her in a hug for the first time. When she pulled away, they both had tears in their eyes. 

“Thomas, leave your cousin alone and eat your greens.” 

Tommy mercifully acquiesced and everyone sat. 

“There are also koala bears.” Anna added. “They’re nice, but you can’t really do anything with them. And snakes and dingos, which are like wild dogs sort of.” 

Finn’s interest was piqued once again. “I wanted a dog. Tommy said no.” 

Anna turned to Tommy. “Why not, then?” 

Tommy sighed and put down his forkful of cabbage. “Because Finn can’t take care of a dog. And we don’t have anywhere to put one.”

“A dog would be nice.” Arthur said behind a mouthful of chicken. Tommy lit a cigarette. 

“Finn and Arthur, you’re doing the washing up. I’m going to get Anna settled.” Scraping the plate one last time, Anna stood to join her mother. They trod up the stairs, Anna never more than a hairsbreadth away. Polly paused at the top of the stairs, and Anna looked up at her quizzicaly. 

“Do you remember anything?” 

Anna nodded. “I remember standing at the top of these stairs yelling down at John and Ada. A teddy bear at Christmastime, and you rocking me to sleep. Michael pinching my arm in church.” 

Polly looked down at her, sadly. “And you made it across the world on just those memories?” 

Anna bit her lip. “I guess I remember feelings too. This is home, I’ve never doubted it.” Polly reached out and grasped her hand. 

“A day hasn’t gone by when I haven’t remembered you. This is your home, it always has been.”


	6. The Emperor

Arthur was upstairs snoring in the bed across from Finn’s sleeping form when Polly had finished her rosary. Tommy had insisted on reoccupying the couch, and he was not at all subtle about the pistol tucked in his coat. Anna had moved her trunks upstairs in a show of surprising strength, and had been thoroughly swaddled in nearly every blanket Polly could find. She poked her head in to see a vaguely human form under at least six quilts with a head peeking out squinting at an old primer still bearing childish pencil scrawls in the margins. She looked up and caught Polly in her gaze. 

“Michael?” 

“Tommy found him. He stayed nearby, but we can’t do anything until he turns eighteen.” Anna screwed up her nose. 

“He was two years older than me, so it must be soon, right?.” 

Polly nodded. “A few weeks.” 

Anna’s face bloomed into an ear to ear grin and she detangled herself from the nest of blankets she’d constructed. She began rummaging through one of the small trunks until she uncovered something rectangular. 

“It’s not really much, I know. But I thought- I dunno. It’s silly. But it’s for you.” 

Polly unwrapped the sackcloth around it. It was a cover page for a book, clearly hastily torn out and crumpled. On it was a crude stick figure family, two children, one with a scribbled mop of blonde hair next to a little brunette in a triangular dress, with a mother standing above them both with a curved slash of a smile. Nearby, three other boys were clustered next to another little girl marked with long dark hair. Anna leaned in. 

“See, that’s you and me, and Michael, and all the boys but not Finn because I didn’t know about him until today and Ada.” Polly’s eyes darted across the picture. The background was a series of grey buildings and a smiling sun in the corner. 

Anna grinned and tapped the sun. “You can tell I did that when I was in Australia. I forgot how rainy it is here.”   
“You did this when you were in Australia?” Polly asked, keeping her eyes on the picture. Anna nodded and began to chew on her thumbnail.

“I think maybe six or seven? I got smacked after bringing that one back to the house, specially since it was hard to plead that this was the foster family. Only one other boy.” Polly cradled the picture to her chest. 

“I love it.” She leaned down and kissed Anna on the forehead. “You should get some sleep, love. It’s been a long day.” 

Anna settled back into the bed. “Goodnight.” Polly smoothed her cropped hair over her forehead. 

“Goodnight.”


	7. The Hierophant

The next morning, the picture was displayed on the mantle place, next to the picture of her husband, the family photo they’d taken the day Arthur, Tommy, and John had shipped out, and the crucifix. Tommy was silently inspecting it when she padded downstairs in her dressing gown. 

“How are you already awake? Is it your stitches? Did you put the kettle on?” 

“Couldn’t sleep. You need a new settee and yes.” 

Polly clucked and walked into the kitchen. 

“Put the ointment I made on. Did you ever have dreams, Thomas?” 

Tommy raised an eyebrow from the doorway. “I have dreams all the time.” 

Polly looked over from the stove. “Special ones.” 

“Like yours?” 

“They were right, weren’t they? They’ve always been right.” 

Tommy lit a cigarette. “I suppose.” 

“Suppose nothing. I know you’re disappointed about what happened with your spy, but you’ll meet someone else thoroughly unsuitable soon enough.” 

With that, she began stirring with the kind of relish only someone who’d known she was right since she was fourteen could. The kettle whistled and Tommy poured carefully into a teapot. 

“Is that a prediction or a promise, Pol?” 

“What’s the difference? Flip them when you see bubbles on the side, I need to make a phone call.” 

Leaving Tommy with a spatula and a wary expression, she crossed into the hall. 

“London, Spring Street 25 please.” 

After several rings, someone finally answered. 

“Jesus Christ, it’s six in the morning.” 

“No blaspheming.” 

“Hello, Aunt Polly. Still trying to get me back to Birmingham?” 

“Yes, but I’ve got an extra incentive. Your cousin’s back.” 

“Michael? I thought he wasn’t eighteen for a few more weeks?” 

“Anna.” 

There was a dull crash in the background. 

“Karl! Just a moment.”   
Polly listened with a smile at the muffled voices of Karl explaining to his mother he was just trying to reach a cup. 

“Just play quietly over here, alright? Sorry, he’s decided he’s a grown-up and won’t let me reach anything for him.” 

“Strong headed, like his mother. And his father, really. Wait till he’s old enough to start sneaking out.” 

“I’m not looking forward to that. Anyway, you said something before Karl climbed into the cupboard.” 

“Anna’s back.” 

“Anna? I thought-” 

“I know, but it’s her, Ada, it is. I need you back here so you can tell Tommy to stop being a twat. And the Garrison’s reopening, which you said you’d come to anyway.” 

“Pol, are you sure? I know how much you want her to be back, but the records…” 

“Come and see for yourself. Please. And it’s been ages since I’ve seen Karl, he might forget about me.” 

“I suppose I could leave the library a day early. I’m owed some bereavement time anyway. Is Tommy feeling alright?” 

“He’s grumpy, but fine. The bruises are healing up nicely but he won’t use his medicine or my ointment for his mouth.” 

Ada tsked. “Stubborn. I’ll be up there day after tomorrow. Say hello to Aunt Polly, Karl.” 

Polly smiled. Karl babbled to her about the cup for a moment, then somehow managed to disconnect the phone. At least, she hoped that was Karl and not the phone company.   
Tommy was facing the stove, but a pile of acceptable looking pancakes were stacked next to him. As Polly prodded one to make sure it was cooked, he handed back the spatula. 

“You know I can hear the conversation you’re having from here, yes?” 

“Well, you won’t use the ointment. It worked when I got sent home from the hospital all cut up from Anna, and it’ll work for you.” 

Tommy sighed and took a small jar from his coat pocket and swabbed his cheek with it. 

“Happy?” 

“Drink your tea.” 

“Tell Ada I can pick her up.” 

“Call and tell her yourself.” Polly shouted over her shoulder. 

She walked back upstairs, got dressed, and pulled her card. Ten of cups. The positions of the family under the expansive rainbow almost mirrored the figures on the drawing Anna’d given her. She tucked it into a hidden pocket in her skirt and rapped on Arthur’s door. 

“Wake up, Arthur.” She pushed the door open to reveal a shockingly alert looking Arthur. He was breathing heavily and clutching the quilt so hard his knuckles had gone white. The door swung a bit wider to reveal Anna crouched down at his side.   
“Breathe in if you can. You’ll feel better.” 

Arthur complied as best he could, but it sounded like he was miles underwater attempting to breathe through a straw. 

“Look at the colors, yeah? Can you count to ten?” 

“Course I can fucking count to ten.” 

“Try it, but keep breathing.” 

Arthur inhaled. “One..Two…” 

Polly decided now was a good time to knock. Anna looked up but Athur kept counting.

“Tea?” 

Anna nodded. 

“Ten.” Arthur looked up, his shoulders relaxed. 

“Hiya Pol.” 

Anna patted Arthur on the shoulder. 

“I’ll go get the tea.” 

She stood up in John’s old pyjamas, which come to think of it, might have originally been Tommy’s, and scampered down the stairs. Polly sat on the bed next to Arthur. 

“You should go back to the doctor. Get some medicine to replace what Tommy poured out.” 

Arthur shook his head. “Tom said-” 

“Fuck what Tom said. I didn’t go to church twice a day for four years so you could come home from the war a mess. If it helps, take it.” 

Arthur nodded and cradled his head in his hands.

“Come downstairs when you’re ready. I made pancakes.” 

The door of the next room banged open and Finn began stomping down the stairs. Her heart softened as Arthur cracked a smile.   
“Never made us pancakes, eh?” 

“Well if you come all the way back from Australia, I’ll make you your own pancakes.” 

Arthur smiled half heartedly. "I'll be down in a mo." 

She hugged him tightly. "Hurry, before Finn eats them all." 

The door latched shut behind her and she walked towards the bustle of a full kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fucked up and mentioned the garrison in an earlier chapter. Maybe it was a soft opening? Maybe they were serving drinks to the construction workers? Maybe folks just clustered around a bombed out building ? who's to say.


	8. Justice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wow!! A big one! Pancakes!! Emotions!! Esme!! A crush???

Downstairs, Finn’s laugh rang out. Anna was reenacting with cutlery a fight she’d seen on her way from the train station. 

“And he clips his friend’s ear, and then he turns around and starts pummeling him. But then the other bloke decides that’s no fair, so he’s helping the man who punched him in the first place!” 

Tommy, drinking his tea, looked displeased. Finn was bent at his waist with jam on his face, cackling. Anna punctuated her story by shoving a pancake whole into her mouth, but beamed as best she could when she saw Polly walk in. 

“I called Ada. I can get her.” 

“Be nice to your sister.” 

Tommy grunted. Arthur cascaded down the stairs in a cacophony of limbs and swearing. 

“Any pancakes left?” Finn looked guiltily down at the empty plate. Polly took an additional stack out of the oven and passed it to Arthur. 

“London tomorrow morning, Arthur.” 

Finn furrowed his brow. “Why does he get to go?” 

“Because Ada won’t kill me if Arthur’s there, and we have some business.” 

“What kind of business?” Anna piped up. 

Arthur looked at Tommy who stared coolly back at Anna. “Men’s business.” 

Polly looked like she could spit. “They’re expanding to London. Tommy, I’m taking the day off.” 

Tommy quirked an eyebrow. “Going to show her all Birmingham has to offer, then?” 

The door slammed open. 

“Stop slamming the fucking door!” Polly hollered. John barged in followed closely by Esme, who zeroed in on Anna. 

“Is this her?” Polly nodded and Esme cupped a startled Anna’s chin and assessed her.   
“Esme, don’t scare her off.” 

Esme tsked without looking away from Anna. 

“You’re a lucky one.” 

“Alright, Esme.” 

From the door, John waved. “I remember you. You’d always want to fight with us.” 

Arthur chuckled. “Pol wouldn’t let her though. She said she’d have our heads if we let you get hurt.” 

Anna squinted. “John?” He nodded and pointed to Esme who had poured herself a cup of tea and was still assessing Anna. 

“My wife, Esme. She doesn’t believe in manners.” Esme shrugged the pointed comment away and pointed at her. 

“We thought you were dead.” Anna made a face. 

“Well, technically, I am. Not actually, obviously. But in the records.” 

“How’d you pull that one off?” Arthur asked, mouth still full. 

Anna shrugged. Tommy checked his pocket watch. 

“Time for you all to earn your keep. Esme, Polly’s out today. Can you help with the takings?” 

Esme nodded, working her curls into a more manageable braid, but refused to make eye contact with Tommy. Finn stood and followed Tommy and Arthur behind a door where men’s voices could be heard. John shot a smile to Anna before he left, and Esme grabbed Anna into a fierce hug before she left. 

“She’s skin and bones, Pol. You’ve got to feed her.” 

Polly waved her off, then finally sat across from Anna. 

“Come upstairs, I want to show you something.” 

Polly nearly had to climb into her wardrobe to unearth the box she was looking for. 

“I have one for you and one for Michael. I knew you’d come back.”   
Anna smiled and began to dig through the box. She pulled out a billowing yellowed dress. Polly sat on the bed smoking. 

“That’s my wedding dress. For later, obviously.” There was an ornate silver comb- “you’ll have to grow your hair out”- a sweater that was obviously miles too big- “I can take it in”- and a knife, which Anna pocketed. Then, there was a thorough investigation of Anna’s trunks, which was mostly books and a few well worn dresses, a pair of boots, and some trousers. Throughout, Polly kept passing Anna biscuits. Anna settled in cross legged on the bed and Polly next to her, stroking her hair. 

“Where’s Ada?” 

“London. She has a son, Karl.” 

“Where’s Uncle Arthur?” 

Polly made a noise. “Good riddance to bad rubbish.” 

“What else are we going to do today?” 

“Tour, then lunch, then church.” 

Walking through the door the rest of the family- and Anna thrilled to think of that, a family, a real one- Polly revealed a bustling room full of men clustered around tables. John, up at the front, was doing sums. Lines of men, reeking of factory smoke, pushing each other and yelling names. 

“This is the family business, love.” Anna nodded, wide eyed. 

“This is Scudboat, and Nipper, and oh, over there-” Arthur’d seen them, and he stood on top of his chair. 

“Attention, gentlemen!” he roared. “This young lady here is my cousin Anna. Don’t fuck with her, or Polly will have your balls.” He sat back down as men swiveled and stared at her. She waved. Tommy strode over, wearing what Anna was coming to recognize as his trademark frustrated expression. 

“Let’s go for a smoke, Arthur.” 

“Alright, Tom.” 

Polly had picked up some papers and was examining them critically, so Anna snuck off. Ducking behnd men, who’d mostly returned to their belligerent customers, she angled herself by the window frame near the door.   
“We don’t know for certain she is Polly’s. Now she’s officially fucking affiliated, rumors will spread.” 

“Tom, she looks just like her.” 

“We can’t trust her. We don’t know her.” 

“She-” 

“Hasn’t proven herself. I need more information.” 

“Hey! You’re Polly’s daughter? I remember when you were just a baby.” 

Anna jumped. The friendly looking man who’d appeared didn’t seem to notice however, and continued chattering.   
“You really do look just like ‘er. You always did. Michael looked more like your Dad, though.” 

Anna smiled at him. “That’s nice.” 

“And well I remember when they took you both away. I must have only just married my Elizabeth- oh you’ll have to meet her, she used to look after you too. Course, that was before we had our own. We’ve two boys-” Outside, Tommy was clapping Arthur on the back and they turned to go inside.

“Anna” Polly called. She made an apologetic face at the man and hurried over. 

“Thank you” she whispered to Polly who laughed. 

“Dan would talk the ear off anyone who’d let him. Here, I want you to meet Lizzie, Tommy’s new secretary.” 

Anna looked into Lizzie’s eyes and immediately tripped. Polly caught the collar of her dress just in time, and Anna straightened up. 

“Alright, love?” 

Anna blushed. 

“This is my daughter, Anna.” Lizzie smiled and held out her hand. 

“Lizzie Stark. It’s lovely to meet you Anna.” 

Anna blushed deeper, grasped Lizzie’s hand and mumbled something.   
“Time for lunch, then, Anna.” 

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Stark.” 

“Call me Lizzie, please. Scudboat, I can’t help you if you don’t give me the right fucking numbers” Across the room, Tommy watched, assessing the interaction with his cold eyes. Anna was as red as if she’d been boiled alive. 

The rest of the day consisted of Mass, as much food as Polly could possibly stuff into Anna’s mouth as she could, and the unearthing of memories long forgotten. Finn had decided that he adored his older cousin, and trailed around after Anna wherever she went. She’d taken to reading Robinson Crusoe at him. When Tommy came back from the shop in the hour before he’d disappear into the backroom of the shop with some whiskey and maybe Arthur and John if he was in the mood, Finn charged up at him, asking if he’d be his man Friday. Tommy agreed and helped construct a lean to out of Polly’s sheets. Anna watched, peeling potatoes and listening to Polly hum tunelessly to the radio as she cooked. Maybe he wasn’t so bad, if he would play like that with his younger brother. Still, the words he’d said to Arthur burned in the back of her mind, well after the dishes had been done and everyone had settled into bed. 

Anna slept through Tommy’s nightmare, Finn slamming the bathroom door, and Arthur yelping when Tommy poured cold water on him early in the morning. She slept through Polly and Finn waking hours later, and the clanging of dishes and the smells of breakfast. She only began to blink and stare groggily at the ceiling when she heard Polly explaining outside the door that, no, he had to let Anna rest, she’d come all the way from Australia and that if he was that bored he could help sweep the shop. Anna stumbled out of the bedroom, still in John’s old pyjamas. 

“Time’s it?” 

“Nearly noon.” Polly laid a cool hand against her head. “You don’t have a fever, but you’ve been traveling so much.” Finn latched on to Anna’s leg. 

“C’n you read some more?” Anna nodded.

“Let me get dressed and have some tea, then I will.” 

“I’ll make some toast.” 

“Thanks, mum.” Anna froze. Her eyes darted to Polly. Rather than laughing or slapping her, which is what she’d expected, Polly began to tear up. In minutes the two women were hugging each other in the hallway, crying. 

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re here.” Polly whispered into Anna’s hair. 

“Me too.” Finn tugged at Anna’s pyjama leg. 

“Can we read now?”


	9. Three of Cups

Ada showed up with Karl on her hip as dinner was set out. Polly had taken a sort of proprietary pride in watching Anna wolf down her cooking, and was smoking another of her cigarettes when the door burst open. Polly sighed, but went. Tommy’s mouth was nearly flattened and he went straight to the cupboard and poured a healthy measure of whiskey. Arthur clapped Anna on the back, which nearly made her choke and Finn sat next to his cousin and began working on a sandwich of his own. Ada set Karl down and embraced Anna in a cloud of perfume and fur. 

“God, you’re the spit of Pol.” Anna beamed at that one. “Karl, this is your-” Ada paused, trying to do genealogy in her head “Aunt Anna.” Anna’s smile practically lit the room and she waved at Karl who looked grumpy from the long car ride where Mum hadn’t stopped yelling more or less the entire time. Polly swooped in and took Karl out of Ada’s arms and began cooing at him. 

“Is his croup better?” 

Ada nodded. “I kept the warm water running, and fed him vinegar.” She turned back to Anna. 

“I can’t believe you’re here. How on earth did you get back from Australia?”   
Tommy paused from where he’d been lighting a cigarette. Anna bit her lip. 

“I worked on a cargo ship. I think I was supposed to go to America but I ran off when we docked in Wales.” 

Ada laughed. “Definitely a member of the family, then. Remember when Arthur wanted to be a sailor?” 

Arthur looked up from his own plate. “Oi.” 

Ada sat across from Anna and leaned in conspiratorially. “He deserted the ship in three days. He got so drunk he disappeared for a week and ended up in Ireland.” 

“I was .” 

“Drunk, more like.” 

Polly walked back in from the other room, with Karl thoroughly occupied with the black Madonna around her neck. 

“Anna loves reading, don’t you, love?” 

“I work in a library” exclaimed Ada. 

“Alright. Time to start getting ready. Arthur?” 

“Right, Tommy. I will bid you ladies adieu” rumbled Arthur. He looped an arm around Finn’s neck, and nearly dragged him from the table. 

“Thomas, take some food for later.” Tommy made a face, but wrapped what he could into a napkin. 

“You can’t live off of whiskey and smoke.” Tommy heaped more food onto his napkin. 

Ada was crouching in front of Anna. “I like your haircut. Very modern.” She placed Karl, who’d been playing on the floor into Anna’s arms, and then gave Tommy a significant look. It was a look that threatened matriarchy and blood. 

“Alright, we’ll see you at the Garrison.” Ada had already flipped open a compact and was comparing the powder within to Anna’s skin. 

“Too tan. Also very modern, but it looks like you’ll have to do without the powder. Pol, do you have better shoes? What size are you then?” 

Anna, dazed by the outpouring of femininity, blinked. “Um-” 

“Try these on.” Ada shucked her shoes and thrust them towards Anna. 

“Yes, those fit. I don’t want to take your shoes, though-” Ada waved her off. 

“I brought an entirely different outfit.” Polly, sitting and smoking, chuckled. She bustled over to a cabinet and brought out three glasses and a bottle. 

“A toast, ladies. To family.”

“To family” Ada and Anna chorused. 

Ada and Polly knocked back the whiskey with ease. Anna attempted to, but couldn’t help the face she made. 

Ada and Polly laughed. 

“Is this your first time drinking whiskey?” Anna nodded, still grimacing. 

“It’s an acquired taste.”   
“You get used to it.” Ada chimed in. “The first time I drank whiskey I threw up on Tommy’s shoes. He deserved it though.” 

Anna poured herself a glass of water. “He doesn’t seem to like me much.” 

Ada leaned in. “That’s a sign you’re doing something right.” 

Polly patted Anna’s hand. “He’s just like that. Before the war, he’d have welcomed you with open arms but now? All there’s room for in his head is power and money.” 

Ada hummed in agreement, as she began rummaging through her overnight bag. 

“Have you ever worn makeup?” 

Anna shook her head. Ada looked delighted. 

“Stay still.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha fun fact I almost copy and pasted this fanfic into a Professional Email (tm)


	10. Queen of Cups

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tommy POV & a mystery guest who is not a mystery at all if you remember roughly what happens on the show.

Anna stumbled into the Garrison looking for all the world like a newborn foal, Tommy thought. Ada’d clearly had a hand in this one, since Anna was wearing enough kohl and rouge than Polly had in her life. Ada clasped Anna’s hand, ostensibly to steady her in her heels, but with the look she shot at him, it was an alliance. Fuck. He had enough troubles without this new cousin careening into their lives. She was a liability. He waited, watching Lizzie brush past Anna with a smile and seeing the blush bloom on her cheeks. Anna, not Lizzie. It’d take a lot to make Lizzie blush. And when he saw her grimace at the drink Polly handed her, past Arthur sloppily pouring drinks and bellowing in his ear- another situation to deal with- he knew he had an in. 

“Anna.” Looking up at Tommy, she smiled. Too nice. “Come to the back room, eh? Have a drink.” 

She gave a tentative look at Polly who waved her on as she chatted with Ada about Rudolph Valentino. 

“Enjoying the party?” 

“Oh, yes. It’s so nice to meet everyone. It’s a shame about the gas leak, but it looks lovely.” 

He squinted, trying to uncover any hints of gloating. “A bottle.” 

“Here you go, Tom. Anna!” Arthur ruffled her hair, undoing whatever strange thing Ada had done. Anna squirmed, looking pleased. 

“Alright, Arthur. Anna, through here.”   
They stepped into the back room, which was marginally more quiet except for John and Esme kissing on the table. Tommy cleared his throat, and with a look they both left, Esme making a rude gesture behind John’s back as she did. 

“Sit, please.” 

“Are they always like that?” 

“John and Esme? More or less. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s pregnant again soon.” 

She settled across the table from him and gave him an expectant look. With her smeared kohl and big eyes she looked like a child playing dress up. He poured them a glassful each, and after he knocked his back, she sipped cautiously. 

“Not a fan of the whiskey, then? It’s a family favorite.” 

“Oh, no, it’s lovely.” She swallowed the rest and tried to turn her grimace into a smile. “Lovely.” 

“So, Anna. You worked on a ship?” 

She nodded. He poured her another glass. “I worked in the kitchens. It was just a cargo ship so we didn’t have to make anything fancy, but now I’m really good at making beans.” 

“They make you cut your hair?” She took a healthy gulp and touched her hair where it was starting to curl around the edges of her ears. 

“Well, they didn’t really let women on the ship, but I needed to get to England.”

“Back to Polly.” 

“Yes.” 

“Why now?” 

“Sorry?” He took another sip and she followed. 

“Why now? You aren’t eighteen yet, but you’d been there for nearly ten years. Why now?” 

Anna stared at the rim of her glass. “There was a change in circumference. Circumstantiality? No, that’s not right. A change.” 

Tommy topped up her glass. “Do you know what we do?” 

Anna pointed at him. “Something with horses and also this pub.” 

“Yes.” 

Anna sipped some more. “This doesn’t taste very nice. Also, I don’t know why you aren’t. Nice. You’re nice to Finn but he’s your brother but Ada told me what happened when Karl was born which was so mean and I think you hate me? But I don’t know why.” 

Tommy blinked. Anna finished her glass. “Ugh.” 

“I don’t hate you. I just don’t know you.” 

“Well fucking try then. You don’t even-” at this point she was near tears “you won’t even try. And I did so much to come back here. So much.” 

Tommy leaned in. “What did you do?” 

“I cut off all my hair!” Anna wailed. “I left people behind with nothing but dreams to get me here. For all I knew you were all dead or I’d made this all up.” 

“It’s alright. Take a breath.” 

“Fuck off.” Anna reached for the bottle. “This is disgusting. Why can’t the family like lemonade?” 

He watched as she poured the dregs into her cup and finished it. 

“I’m going to go talk to my mum. Because at least she’s glad I’m here. And let me tell you something, Thomas Shelby.” And she did look exactly like Pol, especially when she was yelling at him. “If I had a long lost cousin who turned up out of the blue, I’d be fucking grateful, and I would talk to her and make her feel wanted.” Anna stood up, wobbled, then sat back down to pull off the heels. “And I’m giving these back to Ada” she shouted over her shoulder as she pushed past the door. 

“Anna, wait.” 

Steve, his back to the outburst and woefully unaware of the situation behind him continued with his conversation. “She’s been less of a bitch since her daughter’s come along.” 

“Yeah, but you wouldn’t kick her out of bed though, eh?” 

Steve chuckled. “The things I’d do to her, you’ve no idea. She’d be begging for more. You’d have to be fucking crazy though, to try it with Thomas Shelby’s aunt.” 

Tommy reached for his gun, but Anna beat him to the punch. Literally.   
Steve staggered back, clutching his stomach and looking dazed. The room fell silent. 

“Are you talking about my mum?”   
He opened his mouth, but couldn’t get much besides a gasp out.   
Anna stood over him in her stocking feet. “I said, are you talking about my mum, you fucking bastard?” 

“Look, I think there’s been a mistake-”   
He was quickly felled under a series of blows, which she punctuated by a kick to the groin. 

“Don’t ever say that shit again.” She spat. The pub was silent. Ada looked horrified. Polly had never looked so pleased. 

“Alright, Anna, time to go home.” 

He gestured at Arthur who roared “Who turned off the fucking music?” The gramophone quickly resumed its noise. Tommy reached for Anna’s shoulder. 

“Don’t fucking touch me.” 

“It’s time to go. Pol, will you help me carry her?” 

“Come on, love.” 

With one arm around Tommy and one arm around Polly, Anna was lifted through the streets of Birmingham with Ada trailing behind, holding her shoes and Karl. Through her whiskey fueled haze, she could make out the sound of bickering.

“Don’t make that face at me, Thomas. Whatever you’re thinking, no.” 

“Who said I was thinking anything?” 

“No. Leave her out of it.” 

“She wants to be a part of the family, she should understand what we do.” In the back, Ada scoffed. 

“Don’t be so fucking dramatic, Tommy.” 

“Who’s that?” 

“What?” 

“Someone’s outside my door.” 

“Fuck. Anna, love, you have to stand up now, alright?” 

Blinking groggily, she was lowered as Tommy walked away, gun drawn. 

“Michael?”


	11. Nine of Wands

Any family reunion was quickly interrupted by Anna who turned and vomited on Tommy’s shoes.   
The rest of the night, Polly was flitting between feeding Michael and practically pouring tea down his throat- “you’ll catch your death, it’s freezing out-” and rubbing circles on Anna’s back as she retched into a bucket. Ada helped whenever she stopped bickering with Tommy, who eventually threw his hands up and went to bed. Finally, Michael told Polly with all the kindness he could muster that no, really, he was fine, he felt alright, and if at all possible could he get some sleep and Anna passed out snoring with her head dangerously close to the bucket, and Ada had curled up in the same bed as Karl and Finn had disappeared somewhere with Arthur, that Polly allowed herself to collapse onto her bed, only to be woken up a mere five hours later by Arthur clattering around downstairs looking annoyingly awake. 

“Arthur what in the fuck are you doing?” Tommy’s hair was sticking up in the cowlick all the boys got when their hair grew out a little too long and he looked murderous. 

“I’d love to know the answer to that myself.” Polly croaked.

“Making you lot a family fucking breakfast, innit?” 

“Why are you awake so fucking early?” 

Arthur shrugged, not stopping his enthusiastic butter spreading which left toast crumbs all the way along the counter. “Didn’t sleep.” 

“Oh Jesus.” Polly stood on her tip toes and grabbed his chin staring into his massive pupils. “What the fuck are you on?” 

“It’s not a problem. Finn passed out at Isaiah’s but he’ll be round. Tea?” 

Polly accepted the cup, made a face, and added three lumps of sugar. Tommy shook his head. 

Karl toddled down the stairs, followed closely by a bedraggled Ada. 

“Please tell me there’s tea.” Arthur passed her a cup with a manic grin and Ada downed it.

“Jesus Christ, did you make that with petrol?” 

“No blaspheming.” Karl clambered onto his great-aunt’s lap. “Isn’t that right, my love? Ada, you can go back to bed if you’d like.” 

Ada shook her head. “He’d just climb back in with me and demand to know why we can’t play.” She held up her cup imperiously and Arthur nearly knocked her down in his rush to refill it. 

From upstairs, she could hear the miserable cough retch that had kept her up half the night. Tommy, for a half-second, looked guilty and that was all Polly needed. 

“What did you do, Tom?” 

“Got her so drunk she could barely stand and interrogated her about her intentions.” Ada said, cooly munching on a piece of toast. Polly tensed so much that Karl retreated back to his mother, who fed him bites of toast. 

“What.” 

Tommy looked the most nervous he had since the Somme. “I just wanted to check. We don’t know her, Pol.” 

Polly’s nostrils flared. “You got my sixteen year old daughter piss drunk to make sure what? She isn’t a fucking spy?”

Tommy, wisely, said nothing. Ada looked rapt and Arthur buttered toast like his life depended on it. 

“But you’d know all about fucking spies, wouldn’t you? How dare you treat your cousin that way. I swear to you Thomas, if I didn’t know that this entire operation would come crumbling down around you the minute I left, I would move to fucking Canada and let you stumble around Birmingham until you got shot or worse.” 

Arthur muttered to Ada “What’s worse than getting shot?” 

“Marrying a Protestant spy, I suppose.” 

“Unacceptable. She is a member of this family and you will treat her like one. Fucking smile at her. Talk to her about horses. And do not fucking interrogate her!” This last phrase reached such a pitch that Michael stumbled in from downstairs. 

“Toast?” 

Michael accepted. Ada leaned in. “Don’t drink the tea, it’s stronger than half the bar put together.” 

Michael, looking incredibly out of place in his bow tie and sweater vest, nodded nervously. 

“Is that Anna? Upstairs?” 

“The one who’s sick as a dog because of your cousin? Yes.” 

Tommy sighed and lit a cigarette. Michael pushed the toast away. 

“Please excuse me.” Polly gestured at him with a cigarette of her own. 

“Look at those fucking manners. You lot could learn something.” Michael smiled, and trod up the stairs. 

Anna had never ever ever felt this way in her entire life. Even dizziness from the relentless outback sun or the waves making the floor of the ship rock wildly, or even after getting knocked to the deck after a punch to the gut by Jimmy to much belittlement from the crew hadn’t felt like this. She’d survive though. She always had. There was a timid knock on the door. 

“Anna?” 

“Michael!” And even though she was in last night’s clothes- she’d have to figure out how to repair this dress and apologize to Ada- and smelled like sick and had makeup smeared across her face he hugged her tight enough that it seemed like he’d never let go, and she prayed he wouldn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whiskey is the devil's drink and I personally can't even smell it anymore.


	12. Page of Cups

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Knowledge is power

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a chem exam TODAY and yet... here's a new chapter

By the time Anna’s hair began to curl around her earlobes, Polly had begun the process of getting to know her daughter. She would drink tea, but she prefered the strong black coffee that she rationed out of her trunk. She would eat almost anything and could climb the few scraggly trees that had survived the bleak industrial streets of Birmingham. She’d wear the dresses Ada had left behind, but almost always with a pair of trousers underneath. She would sing sea shanties to herself under her breath when helping in the kitchen and could swear back at Scudboat with endless creativity. And- 

“Is that a tattoo?” 

Anna froze from where she’d been rummaging through Polly’s cupboard. As much as she’d been feeding her, she was still far thinner than Ada had been, and the dress had a tendency to slip off her shoulders. 

“No?” Anna tried. Still, the swallow peeked through.   
“Holy Jesus.” Arthur and Michael wandered back from the shop, Arthur munching on an apple. 

“Jesus what?” 

“Your cousin has a tattoo.” Polly squinted. “Did you do this?” 

Arthur was so quick to put his hands up defensively that the apple was left dangling from his mouth. Michael looked afraid but amused. 

“No, no, Mum, it’s not his fault. I had it before I came here.” The door slammed open to reveal the sound of a baby crying and a visibly harried Esme. 

“That fucking door, I swear-” 

“Polly, I need your help he won’t stop fucking crying-” 

“Alright, let me see him.” As Polly cradled the baby and inspected his ears, Esme relaxed at the sound of cries turning into whimpers which faded into silence . 

“What’s happening here, then?” 

Arthur chortled. “Anna has a tattoo.” 

“Oh, right, the ship on her back.” 

“WHAT.” 

The baby started crying again and Esme groaned. 

“I’m cutting John’s cock off before I let him near me again.”

“I’m sorry, Mum!” 

“Oh Pol, it’s alright. John and Tommy and I have ‘em.”

“Not the same, Arthur! They’ll think I’m running a fucking circus out of my house!” Polly handed the baby back to Esme. “He has colic. Give him a warm bath and he’ll quiet down.” She lit a cigarette. “No use crying over spilled milk, I suppose. Michael, don’t you dare get a tattoo.” 

Arthur slapped Michael on the back hard enough that he looked vaguely pained. “Posh boy? No way.” 

It was only after Arthur had clattered through the door and Esme had bundled up the baby again and left that Michael muttered “I’m not posh.” 

“What’s that love?” Polly looked up from her newspaper. 

“Nothing, Mum.” 

Here’s what Tommy knew about his cousin. She was still fairly slight for all that Polly was feeding her, but deceptively strong, having lifted half of Polly’s dresser on her own while Finn and Isaiah struggled with the other end. Curly, who adored her since she would ferry scones to the canal most afternoons, was teaching her how to ride, but she was still nervous with any of the spirited ones. She had three hand-inked tattoos, which meant she’d sailed across the equator, and had done more than 5,000 miles if they were accurate. Arthur was teaching her how to box, and she was quick but couldn’t do much if she was cornered by a larger opponent. She could shoot a rifle but had trouble with pistols. He’d seen her gut a fish in quick efficient motions. Once, when John had come up behind her too quietly, she’d nearly punched him, but Lizzie had found her in the loo shaking like a leaf. Her file was supposed to arrive a week ago, but it wasn’t till the Wednesday after that Lizzie brought him a package with a variety of stamps on it. 

“What are you expecting from Australia?” 

Tommy tapped the end of his cigarette into the ashtray. “Information.”


	13. Temperance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is this just me cathartically yelling at Tommy shelby thru another character? Absolutely.

Tommy had called her in, but he wasn’t ready yet so she perched on the bench outside his office, nervously twisting the hem of her dress in her hands. It was muddy. Fuck, she should have worn a clean one but so far dirty things had just disappeared from her room in the night and appeared folded on her dresser in the morning and the Cut was too filthy to even consider washing something in and she’d told Mum not to worry about it but-

“I think he’s ready now, Anna.” Lizzie smiled at her and God she was already nervous enough without Lizzie and her lipstick and her smiling. Anna smiled back but it was probably more of a grimace. She straightened her skirt- unfashionably long and Lizzie never wore long skirts nor did Ada but if she had to wear a skirt she’d be damned if it was going to be a short one where she couldn’t wear anything underneath. She rapped on the door before entering to see Tommy sitting behind that massive desk with piles of paper everywhere. 

“Anna. Drink? Smoke?” But he was already up and pouring two glasses of whiskey and passing her a cigarette, which she took and lit with a book of matches secreted away in one of her many pockets. 

“Thank you.” 

“Please, sit.” She could have sworn the chair she sat on the edge of was deliberately lower than his, and he loomed over her as he ashed his cigarette. 

“What can I help you with?” 

“Tell me more about your foster family.” He watched as she swallowed and took another lengthy drag from her cigarette. 

“Well, there was William and Mary, and they were the foster parents. Bill was their son, but he was in the Navy and died in the war. I was the oldest of the children, then there’s Henry, a year below me, then Mildred, who’s six, then two toddlers, Clarence and Ethel, and the baby Alice.”

His eyes pierced hers as she took a drink. 

“William and Mary? Not Mum and Dad?” 

Anna scoffed softly. “No. Not Mum and Dad.”

“What happened to them?” 

“They passed away. In a fire. Why?” 

“And then what?”

“I told you, I worked on a ship and came here.” She had her hem between her fingers again, twisting it as she looked into her lap. 

“Nothing else?” 

Her face was drawn as she made eye contact. “What do you want?” 

He reached into a drawer and a thick manilla folder thumped onto the desk. “This tells a different story.”

“Fuck.” Her hem ripped between her fingers. 

“This says you went to prison for six months for petty larceny. And that you were wanted for questioning in relation to the fire that killed your foster parents.” It also said she was 5’0, when she was about two inches taller, but he chose not to bring that up. 

She wouldn’t cry in front of him, she wouldn’t cry in front of him, she wouldn’t cry in front of him. 

“Yes. That’s true.”   
“Have you told Polly?” 

“No.” Fuck, her voice wobbled at that. He might not be able to take her away like the Church could, but he’d tell her and she wouldn’t want anything to do with this disaster of a daughter, tattooed and gangly and weepy. 

Tommy watched her face contort as she stubbornly refused to meet his gaze. 

“Please don’t tell her.” Anna finally managed to whisper. 

“I won’t. In exchange for something.” 

“What.” Jaw set, shoulders tense, switching from sadness to rage. Good. 

“I need some extra bodies for a show. An auction.” 

“An auction?” 

“Horses.” 

“I don’t know anything about horses.” 

“You don’t need to. Just be there.” 

“Fine.” she spat. “Can I leave now?” 

Tommy nodded. “Oh, and Anna? You’ll need a haircut. And a suit. John’ll take care of it.” 

She stormed out, nearly slamming into- 

“Michael?” 

“What are you doing here?” 

“Tommy wanted to see me. What are you doing here?” 

He shrugged, affable, and waved a newspaper. “Thought I’d get a job.” 

“Good luck, then.” And that’s when she broke, tears pouring down her face. Michael looked horrified. He gave her a timid pat on the shoulder, which only made her cry more. 

“Michael? Mr. Shelby’s ready for you. Oh, love, what’s wrong?” 

Anna couldn’t answer before she was folded into a perfume-y hug. 

“I dunno, she just started crying.” He backed out towards the office. “So sorry, Anna I have to go.” 

Lizzie waved him on before rubbing Anna’s back as the sobs petered out. 

“Was it Tommy? He’s awful, love, I know.” 

“No, it’s my fault.” She sniffed. “Sorry, your dress is all watery now.” 

“Oh, that’s alright. I spilled ink on it this morning anyway. Do you want a cuppa?” 

Later, with a warm mug cradled between her hands and one of Lizzie’s cigarettes between her lips, she managed to ask “Do you think you can do something bad but for a greater good?” 

“What do you mean?” 

Anna lit the cigarettes, first Lizzie’s, then hers. 

“I mean, there are bad things, but what if you had to do them to stop someone else doing worse things.” 

“Love,” Lizzie laughed “I was never any good at philosophy. Give me an example.” 

“Like, stealing bread to feed your family. Or..hurting someone bad.” 

“Mm.” Lizzie smoked for a moment in silence. “I suppose I can’t disagree and work for the Peaky Blinders at the same time.” 

Anna frowned. “I thought it was Shelby Company Limited?” 

“Well, that’s the legal side. But the gang, that’s the Peakys.” 

“Right. The gang.” Anna stood. “Sorry, I have to go. Thank you so much for the tea. And being nice.”

Michael and Tommy looked up with the same startled expression when the door slammed open, which would have been funny in any other context. 

“How dare you?” 

“Anna” Michael hissed. “Not now.”   
“You can’t guilt me about going to prison when you run a fucking gang, Thomas Shelby.” 

Outside the office, Scudboat leaned over to Nipper. “Have you noticed she looks just like Polly when she shouts?” 

Nipper considered it and nodded. 

“You went to prison?” 

“Anna-” Tommy began.

“Fuck you! I’ll tell her myself. And I’ll help you on Thursday because that’s what family is for, you bastard.” She slammed the door behind her so hard that the glass shook. Lizzie attempted to hide her smile in her teacup.


	14. Six of Cups

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> more esme!! OC Rupa used w permission of ashling and her work The Bride which is SO GOOD and worth a read !!

Polly had only laughed when she told her, and then laughed until she wept when she heard about the confrontation with Tommy. 

“What did he want, anyway?” 

Anna shrugged and lit a cigarette. “Just for me to help him with Lizzie.” 

Polly’s mouth flattened out. “And Michael?” 

“Wanted a job?” 

“Finish your tea. I’ll be right back.” 

She could hear the shouting even muffled by two walls and the general cacophony of the betting shop. While the volume escalated, Esme padded in, quiet as a cat. 

“Boo.” 

Anna jumped so much that the cigarette flew out of her mouth and nearly lit the tablecloth on fire. 

“Jesus.” 

Esme brandished a pile of fabric at her. “Here’s the suit for Thursday. I had to take it in miles for you.” 

“Already? I only just agreed.” 

Esme shrugged in one fluid motion, tucking her braid behind her shoulder. “Tommy thinks three steps ahead. I wouldn’t trust him if I were you.” She scrutinized Anna’s face closely. “You should try warm milk.” 

“Sorry?”

“Before bed. It’ll help with sleep.” 

“How-”

“If the circles under your eyes got any bigger your whole face would be purple.”

“Right.” 

“I have a sister. Rupa.” 

“That’s lovely?” 

“She lives in London. She used to be an ambulance driver.” 

Anna sat, squirming under the intensity in Esme’s dark eyes. She whipped out a pair of scissors and a straight razor from her voluminous skirts and positioned Anna’s face. 

“Don’t move.” Anna didn’t move, and more hair than she’d expected began to pool at her feet. 

“Do you understand? An ambulance driver. Who exclusively fucks other ambulance drivers.” 

Anna felt the blood rushing to her cheeks. “Oh.” 

“You’re not subtle as you think when you look at Lizzie, but don’t worry. The boys are all too busy chasing skirt themselves to notice, Polly thinks you hung the moon, and Michael probably still thinks babies come from the stork.” 

Before she could help it, a giggle escaped her, then a gasp as a cold dollop of shaving cream hit the back of her neck. 

“Really don’t move this time. If I get blood on the table again, Polly will have a fit.” 

In a few slow strokes, the skin on the sides and back of her head was exposed to the cool evening air blowing through the kitchen window. 

“Right.” Esme shook out a kerchief, folded it into a triangle and wrapped around Anna’s head, combing a curl out onto her forehead. “Keep this on if you’re somewhere Polly can see. The cap has a blade in it, so be careful waving it around. Thursday morning. Lizzie will take you.” That statement was accompanied by a knowing look. “And sweep up the hair before she comes back.” With that, Esme left as silently as she’d come, only moments before Tommy trod into the room stiffly, followed by Polly.

“I would like to apologize.” 

“S alright.” 

Polly jabbed Tommy, who sighed. “And of course, it would be irresponsible of me to put you in danger. I overstepped. And I would like to officially welcome you to the family.” 

A spark of something wicked lit up Anna’s eyes. “Why thank you, cousin Thomas. I would also like to apologize for my foul language, which is unbefitting for a lady.” 

Tommy looked like he’d rather be raked over hot coals. “Right.” 

“Of course, murder is also unbefitting. And being accused of arson.” 

“Alright. Truce, you two. Anna, were you wearing that kerchief earlier?” 

Anna blinked innocently. “Mmhmm.” 

“And I told you, you don’t have to sweep.” 

“I dropped a glass, sorry.” 

Polly waved that aside then stepped into the sitting room with the paper. “Remember our agreement, Thomas.” 

“Course.” Then, quieter, “Did Esme stop by?”

In lieu of an answer, Anna pulled aside the kerchief to reveal her Peaky haircut.

“Make sure it all fits and get comfortable with the hat. You shouldn’t have to use it, but in case.” 

“Alright.” He was nearly to the door when she blurted “Tom. Why do you need me?” 

“You can fight, you’d pass for a boy, and I need the numbers. And... you're family.”


	15. Ten of Swords

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peaky typical violence. Follows episode three if you're keeping score.

Thursday dawned, grey and misty. Polly was still in her dressing gown when Lizzie knocked on the door, prim as anything in a tailored jacket with a matching cloche. 

“Helping Lizzie pick out fabric in London, Mum!” 

Polly scanned her daughter up and down, kerchief, too big sweater, and floor length skirt, then Lizzie’s immaculate outfit.

“Right.”

Lizzie leaned in. “Tommy asked me to take her. To make friends.” 

Polly nodded at that and stood aside to let Anna pass. “Have fun. Do you want sandwiches? Tea?” 

They shared a cigarette and the thermos Polly had foisted on her around the corner after Anna shimmied out of her skirt and sweater to reveal an immaculate three piece suit. Lizzie passed her the cigarette and straightened her cap. 

“Christ, you look like Tommy when he was younger.” Lizzie regarded her with a grin. “I’m sure you’re much sweeter, though. He nearly broke my heart.” 

Before Anna could say something foolish, like ‘I would never break your heart’, the canvas covered lorry screeched around the corner, Arthur leaning around Tommy to lay on the horn. 

From the house she could hear a shout: “This is a respectable fucking neighborhood!” 

“Look at you! A baby Peaky.” Arthur crowed, as she leapt into the truck. Tommy made a face that could almost be considered a smile. Michael piled in behind her, ignoring the hand she extended to lift him up, and sat as far away as he could. A cloud passed over her face before Anna turned and started talking to Curly, who was more than happy to explain the merits of an Arabian horse versus a thorough bred, taciturn Charlie weighing in every now and again. 

They pulled over by a cluster of birch trees, steam pouring from underneath the truck’s hood. 

“She’s heating up, Curly. Take a look.” As her conversation partner scrambled out of the truck, Anna followed and lit a cigarette, moving out of the way for Charlie. From behind her, she could hear Michael offering sandwiches to Arthur, who guffawed. John circled back to the truck and snatched the thermos from Michael, looking at it incredulously. 

“She made some for me, too but Lizzie and I polished it off. We can use the cup, though.” 

Arthur and John shared a look. Tommy smiled from under the brim of his hat. 

“What is this, teddy bear’s fucking picnic?” Charlie growled. 

“Alright. We will drink the tea and eat the sandwiches and then we will drive on. Alright? No crumbs, Charlie.” 

Despite their misgivings, the sandwiches and tea were polished off in minutes, and after Anna had found a suitable thicket and lit another cigarette, they’d all piled in again and were off. 

“Alright lads, this is a respectable event and you will all behave accordingly. No weapons, no drinking.” 

Arthur elbowed her. “Tom just wants this pair of shoes to last.” John, behind him, snickered. Anna blushed. Tommy continued to list instructions, trailed closely by Curly and Michael. 

Anna mimicked the other’s walks as best she could, though she couldn’t quite capture Tommy’s swagger. She nodded at a man who passed them walking down the stairs, and grinned at a lady’s servant. Despite the fact that Lizzie had insisted she shove a bundle of socks into her underthings, she felt more comfortable than she had in awhile. Across the auction ring, a dark haired woman stared. Her eyes glanced over the group, coming to rest on Tommy, before turning to an older man. 

Charlie muttered into Tommy’s ear and he leaned forward to brace himself on the balcony. Anna leaned forward too, trying to catch a glimpse of the horse worth driving all morning for. It looked nice, to be sure, grey and ethereal, but she wasn’t quite sure how it differed from all the other horses that had circled the ring. It was a far cry from the fat old plow horse they’d had in Australia, who would walk two steps then pause until he was given a carrot. She shook her head slightly to bring herself back to the present, and was shocked to hear the auctioneer ask for one thousand seven hundred. Mutters from Arthur, Curly, and Charlie were rebuked by Tommy as he leant in and accepted the bid of two thousand, making eye contact with the woman across the entire time, until she moved towards the corridor. 

“Go. Follow her.” Tommy hissed. Anna shucked the skirt that she’d bundled into a bag on in a corner of the corridor and wrapped the kerchief around her head before she stepped into the washroom, tossing in her suit jacket. In the mad scramble, however, the thermos slipped out and clattered to the floor. The woman paused from applying lipstick and bent to pick it up. 

“Thank you.” Anna murmured. She began washing her hands, desperately racking her brain on how to strike up a conversation. 

“Did you get the horse you wanted?” The woman paused again, making eye contact with her in the mirror. 

“I didn’t, actually. I was outbid.” 

“Sorry to hear that.” 

“There’s always next year I suppose.” She snapped her compact shut. “Do you know anything about the gentlemen in those newsboy hats?” 

“They’re businessmen from Birmingham, I believe.” The woman scanned her up and down. 

“You’re awfully thin. Here, go buy yourself something to eat.” She passed her a pound note. 

“Thank you very much, Miss…?’ 

“Lady Carleton. And it’s perfectly alright. I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.” 

“Anna, Anna Gray.” 

Lady Carleton smiled. “Lovely to meet you Miss Gray. Please excuse me, my father is waiting.” 

As soon as the door shut behind her, the skirt and kerchief were off and the jacket and cap back on. Anna bolted through the door, startling a young girl with a wash bucket and brush. She found Tommy just leaving the auctioneer’s office. 

“Her name is Lady Carleton. She’s here with her father, and she’s asking about you.” 

Tommy nodded, slow and sure, just as the woman herself turned the corner. Anna turned and folded herself into the group, just as Arthur muttered something about rich women in bed. As John snorted, Arthur yelled to Tommy. 

“Come on, Tom.” 

“We’ve got to get these kids back before dark, or Polly will have your balls.” John shouted.

“She will have ‘em.” Anna raised her eyebrows to Michael, who cracked a smile for the first time since he’d seen her in the truck. 

“He took majority share when my husband was killed. Ypres.” Even the memory of the war wasn’t enough to quell Arthur as he elbowed John. 

“Tommy! We’ve gotta get back to the caravans! The chickens, they’re hungry.” John was trying his hardest to stifle his giggles, but even Charlie was smiling. 

As Arthur continued his tirade about wealthy woman and working class cock, Anna stiffened. Curly was right, something felt wrong, but she didn’t want to stifle the jocular mood, not when Michael wasn’t ignoring her and Tommy had seemed halfway proud of something she’d done. 

Michael caught the truck keys in one quick motion, as the man sitting at the auctioneer’s desk turned. 

“Thomas Shelby?” 

Then there were bullets and all she could think was no, not now, not when I just found them. She knocked Michael to the ground, then leapt after the second man who’d emerged from the shadows with a yell, kicking him in the balls and climbing onto his back. He shook her off, but not before she’d carved a line down his face with the razor in her cap. Knocking her into the dust, he fled. 

Arthur’s knuckles stained red, and he shook against Curly and Charlie, holding him away from the bloodied corpse of the shooter. She ran to Michael. 

“Don’t get blood on the kid.” barked Tommy, but she ignored him, clutching him as tight as she could. 

“Get off, Anna!” Michael shoved her away. “ You weren’t even supposed to be here. I had to fucking ask Mum for permission like a kid, and here you are in a bloody suit, parading around like you’re some fucking gangster.” 

Anna’s mouth was a perfect O for a moment before it curled into a snarl. “I just saved your fucking life!” 

“Enough!” Tommy’s voice echoed off the balcony. “We don’t have time for this. Give me the keys, Michael. We’re leaving. Now.” 

They traipsed out and got into the truck. Gone was Arthur’s smile, John’s laughter. Even Curly was quiet, picking up on the hostile mood. Nearly an hour in, Charlie turned to Anna. 

“You’re going to have a massive black eye.” 

Arthur swore. 

“Polly will fucking murder us.” 

Anna shook her head. “She doesn’t know I was with you. I’ll tell her I fell.” 

“You’ve got a cut, too, Anna.” Curly stammered. Looking down at her palm, it was her turn to swear. In the moment she hadn’t noticed, but grabbing the cap had left a deep red gash over her life line on her palm. Michael passed her his handkerchief but refused to make eye contact with her. She mumbled a thank you and spent the rest of the ride with her back pressed up against the stiff canvas, pretending the truck bouncing over the ruts in the road was the ship, rocking her back to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some of the dialogue is cribbed pretty directly from the show so that's a good time


End file.
